


when we all fall asleep, where do we go?

by inkwelled



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Does That Even Work Here, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heart-to-Heart, Hugging, Let Clint and Peter Be Friends You Cowards, Major Character Undeath, One-Sided Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 21:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: When he asks quietly, in the aftermath, Nebula points him wordlessly to the ship parked in the front lawn of the Avengers Compound. It's past sunset when Clint approaches the Benetar and despite how the ramp stairs are down, all the lights are off. Despite, he climbs the stairs one at a time with hesitant movements, feeling perfectly out of place.There’s not a single sound from inside but he knows who he’s looking for is here."He's always in there," Nebula had murmured. "Running the scanner, looking for her. He won't listen to us but maybe you can talk some sense into him before I knock it into him myself."





	when we all fall asleep, where do we go?

**Author's Note:**

> DON'T GO ANY FURTHER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ENDGAME THERE'S HUGE SPOILERS AHEAD OKAY THANKS
> 
> hi yes endgame KICKED down the door of my house, MURDERED me and my wife and my three cats before STEPPING ON my houseplants and i'm ready to fist-fight the russo brothers my goddamn self.
> 
> anyway. enjoy. if you need me i'll be in the corner, sobbing my eyes out.

When he asks quietly, in the aftermath, Nebula points him wordlessly to the ship parked in the front lawn of the Avengers Compound. It's past sunset when Clint approaches the Benetar and despite how the ramp stairs are down, all the lights are off. Despite, he climbs the stairs one at a time with hesitant movements, feeling perfectly out of place.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

There’s not a single sound from inside but he knows who he’s looking for is here.

"He's always in there," Nebula had murmured. "Running the scanner, looking for her. He won't listen to us but maybe you can talk some sense into him before I knock it into him myself."

He finds Peter Quill in the cockpit that Clint himself once sat in, chuckling, eyes wide as he took in space, joked about Budapest with-

Clint shoves the memory down deep in his bones, barring it away in the lockbox in his ribs that now holds Nat's smile, her teary eyes, her whispered, _"let me go."_

“Go away,” Quill says the second before Clint’s foot connects with the grates. “I’m not hungry, Nebula-“

He swivels and their eyes meet.

If Clint thought he looked rough after the battle, it's nothing compared to now. There are huge purple circles beneath Quill's eyes, dirty blonde curls limp with oil. On his forehead, there's a discoloring that Clint doesn't know if it's a shadow or bruise and duly notes the five o'clock shadow on his chin and around his mouth.

Quill closes off before Clint’s eyes. “Oh. What do you want?”

“Nebula said I'd find you here,” Clint says instead and comes to a stop when he’s lined up with Quill's chair.

Quill chuckles bitterly as he stands but Clint bulldozes over whatever he’s going to say. “I lost someone to the Soul Stone, too,” he murmurs and watches how Quill's shoulders square.

"Don't," Quill bites out and pushes past Clint to stomp into what he assumes is the common room of the Benetar - or whatever the ship is called.

Clint catches sight of a flashing screen before he's turning away and following Quill.

When he catches up with Quill, the half-Terran - Nebula says he's part-god, _whatever that means,_ but he can't judge, there's a talking raccoon and a literal Norse god on their team as well - is in front of a table, fingertips tapping against a screen suspended from the ceiling.

Quill makes a sound of frustration when Clint appears in the doorway and before he can swipe away the current screen, Clint sees a picture of a green-skinned woman. She has brown eyes, silver markings above and below her eyes, magenta-tipped hair and a fierce look on her face that Clint understands immediately why Quill fell for her.

 _"Gamora,"_ Nebula said her name was. Her sister, murdered by Thanos in order to obtain the Soul Stone.  _"Her and Peter were obnoxiously in love."_

Clint thinks dimly he saw her during the battle but isn't sure. To be fair, there was a lot going on as they tried not to lose for the second time.

"I don't know what you're doing here, man," Peter says angrily as he crosses his arms, "but I can't help you. I'm busy."

"Her name was Natasha," Clint murmurs and lowers his gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint can see how Quill's stance softens. "We were tasked with getting the Soul Stone."

"Please-" Quill pleads. "Don't."

Clint takes a step closer until he's less than a foot away from Quill. "You're not the only one who lost, Quill. We've all lost someone we love and I know you've lost someone but you got your family back. You have to recognize that, you can't keep pushing them away."

After a moment of silence, Quill's eyes tear up and he looks up as Clint's hand rests on his shoulder.

"Was Natasha-"

"No," Clint says quickly but then shakes his head. He can't lie to Quill. "At one time, yeah, she was. O-or she could've been. She was my Gamora."

The name seems to shatter what's left of Quill's defenses and the man shudders out a breath as Clint pulls him into his arms. He won't say they both break then, but the mutual understanding and sympathy that they've won as humanity but lost as individuals knits them together in a way that Clint and Quill don't talk about but value all the same.

"I saw her," he says hoarsely then, "on the battlefield. Before then, I hadn't known how much time passed between Thanos' snap and us coming back on Titan but-"

His voice shudders and Clint pulls back. "I thought I lost her," Quill continues, "but then she was there, but it wasn't her - it was Gamora but it wasn't she looked at me like I was a stranger-"

Quill's stomach growls then and Clint coaxes the man out of the Benetar with the promise of a good 'ol American cheeseburger.

They're quiet when they walk into the compound, shoulder-to-shoulder.

When Quill shows up for their version of dinner, the woman with antenna bursts into tears and trips in her haste to get to them. Clint smiles to himself and takes his own seat, watching how Quill hugs her close like she's a lifeline.

Mantis, he thinks he hears Quill call her.

"His half-sister," Nebula whispers to Clint when the rest of the Guardians join in on the hug and he can no longer see Quill behind Drax and Groot's long arms, "on his father's side."

"Ah," Clint says and the two fall silent after that.

Clint's there five days later when the Guardians cast off after the small funeral service for Tony. He hugs Quill close, claps his shoulder, feeling the leather of the man's jacket against his button-up.

He's long abandoned his suit jacket, somewhere between the house and flower wreath in the river, the moment with Wanda by the tire swing.

"Don't be a stranger, Quill."

"Peter," he says then and smiles weakly as Nebula follows Mantis into the Benetar and thinks dimly of how odd the blue and orange spaceship looks against the woods around them. "My friends call me Peter."

He waves when the Benetar lifts off and opens his hand. Q - Peter's pressed a communicator into his palm when they clasped each other's shoulders in a short hug.

* * *

It’s been almost a year.

Like every damned day, Peter wakes with his hand stretched to the side of the bunk in the Captain’s quarters that’s cold and military-made. He snatches back his hand as if this isn’t _a goddamn daily thing_ and pulls himself from the sheets like he pulls sleep from his eyelids.

Peter scratches the back of his neck as he stumbles from th - _his_ quarters before rubbing at his eyes. Dressed in only a thin shirt and boxers supplied by the Avengers on their last touchdown, he pads through the quiet corridors of the Benetar and snatches some rations before climbing into the cockpit.

He definitely doesn't let his eyes or hand linger on Gamora's chair, ever-present in eye-sight.

He’s checking the stats of the Benetar on his screen on his cockpit when he stiffens.

_"Gamora.”_

The name rolls off his tongue like one of his songs he hasn't played over the speakers in so long.

He doesn’t turn because he doesn’t have to.

Peter knows her like he knows the back of his hand, the trigger on his blasters, the folded corners of the blankets on the other side of the bunk.  
He doesn’t have to turn.

Despite that, he turns anyway.

Even a year later, just the sight of her makes his breath go ragged. Gamora's changed since he last saw her - but then again that was in battle where she shoved him away from her and vanished after the war was won. Her hair is sheared off near her shoulders, eyes brighter, clothes cleaner but her fingers are tangled together and trembling slightly.

She looks healthy.

Like the Gamora he knows - _knew_.

Peter doesn't know how she got on the Benetar in the middle of space but doesn't ask. She's always been crafty.

"I thought you died," he whispers tearily, body aching to step forward and take her slight frame into his arms. "I thought you disappeared with Thanos' army, Gamora, I thought I lost you-"

“I'm not her,” Gamora says shakily, quieter and more vulnerable than Peter’s ever seen her. He has to remind himself this isn’t _his_ Gamora. “I’m not your Gamora.”

He moves as if to take a step forward but hesitates. “Are you staying?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “I want to but - I don’t know if I can.”

“Can I touch you?”

Gamora is quiet for a moment before she jerks her head in the slightest manner. Despite just rousing from sleep, Peter is wide awake when he steps forward and with hesitant hands, cups Gamora’s left cheek in his palm.

“ _Oh_ ,” he sighs then, a sorrowful sound, “Oh, _Gamora_. You know you’re welcome here anytime. This is your home as much as any of the Guardians.”

Gamora’s eyes well up. “I don’t know them,” she confesses, “I don’t know any of this. It’s not - it’s not me, Peter Quill. None of this is.”

He watches her eyes roam the cockpit they stand in before landing back on him. His other hand hovers near his hip but aches to cup her other cheek, reminds Peter of a time where she leant into his touch instead of shying away.

All things considered, he should expect it.

It's better than he could have ever hoped, though.

They’ve followed her for almost a year, tracking her across galaxies and planet-sides and every manner of civilizations.

It still hurts like hell.

Peter Jason Quill has been stabbed, shot out of the sky, impaled with lightning from a celestial being, but the look on Gamora’s face when he touches her hurts more than anything that’s ever happened before.

“I know it’s not your home-“ Peter chokes on his words, “-but you can stay. I know the rest of the Guardians wouldn't say no, especially your sister.”

"Thank you," Gamora murmurs before blinking. "Where is Nebula's quarters?"

Peter cocks his head. "Why?"

She twists her fingers around and he sees how she seems to reach for Godslayer at her hip when she's nervous. His chest constricts when he thinks of the broken Godslayer in his quarters that he brought back with shaking fingers after Gamora's teary _I love you, more than anything._

"I thought I would stay with her," she confesses and Peter clears his throat.

"Oh."

They both stand there and he takes a step back. He'd just assumed-

He'd just assumed she'd accompany him back to the Captain's quarters, would sharpen Godslayer before tucking it away and sliding beneath the covers and pressing a kiss to his shoulder before he lowered the lights and drifted off, Gamora's warmth at his back-

Peter seems to lose his voice but swallows down the lump in his throat at the thought. 

 _His_ Gamora is gone, the one that wore his shirts to bed and peppered kisses across his bicep beneath the covers, toes knocking into the back of his calves, whispering  _goodnight_ before settling in at his back. Instead he has a cold, too-big bed, a broken sword, and too much space in his heart.

Wordlessly because he can't even pretend to breathe right now, he points down the corridor to his left. "Until we can sort everything out and clean out another bedroom, you can stay with Nebula, if you want. Do....would you like an extra pillow and blanket?"

"Yes," Gamora whispers, "if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

Peter inclines his head. "I'll grab some for you."

She doesn't follow him into the Captain's quarters but instead hovers near the doorway. Peter walks around to _his_ -Gamora's side of the bed, pillow untouched and blanket crisply folded and it feels like a sin when he picks them up. He knows they don't smell of her anymore, of the oil she used to keep her leather armor moving cleanly and the sharp twinge of metal of Godslayer mingled with the military smell of the Xandar-provided shampoo of their shower.

Peter reminds himself that just like Gamora, Xandar is gone. Completely obliterated by Thanos in order to get the Power Stone. Wiped out just as he wiped out Gamora for the Soul Stone.

Gamora's eyes are teary when he steps close to offer them and Peter finds his own wet.

"Thank you," she says and presses up on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. She's gone then before Peter can blink, the ghost of her lips on his face soon replaced by the warmth of his hand.

He shakily exhales before shaking his head. If not for the spot on the bed missing Gamora's - _his_ Gamora's - pillow, he would think this was all a fever dream and it was all a delusion.

Gamora is there at breakfast though, shoulders pressed to Nebula's as they talk quietly. Peter freezes in the doorway to the common room when he sees her, mouth halfway open to greet her with the good morning darling he's so used to saying until his eyes snag on the blunt chop of her hair and leather outfit.

His teeth click when he snaps his jaw shut before anything can escape and Gamora catches sight of the movement.

For a moment, they just watch each other.

Gamora's face moves first, stretching into the tiniest of smiles and she waggles her fingers at him before turning to engage back in conversation with Nebula.

"You look stupid," Rocket informs him loftily. As he sits, Peter brings a hand to his face and traces the lines of his lips, curved into a wide, goofy smile.

It's a start.

It's all he could ever hope for.

* * *

"I found her," Peter whispers. "Or, she found me."

On the other side of the communicator, Clint's voice seems far-away but perkier than Peter's heard it in a long time. "Yeah? So things are getting better?"

"Yes," he murmurs and Clint hums on the other end. "They are. And you?"

One of Clint's kids yells a hello in passing and they both chuckle for a moment until they fall silent. Peter can hear the windchimes of Clint's front porch in the background. "I slept through the night last night," Clint says quietly and Peter smiles.

"That's good."

Clint hums in affirmation and they sit there in companionable silence, separated by hundreds of thousands of miles. 

"You coming next week?"

Peter thinks of the message that had popped up on the communicator from Danvers. "Yeah. We'll be arriving two days early though; I hope the Compound has enough rooms for all of us."

"Stay with us," Clint says without skipping a beat. "We have the room, Peter. You're welcome to stay here. Lila's been itching to tear apart the tractor again with the help of Nebula and I'm sure Cooper would love to play ball with you again."

Without realizing it, Peter's blinking away tears. "Tell him to oil his glove," Peter says wetly as he stands and types new coordinates into the ship's mainframe, "because I'm gonna whoop his ass in catch this time."

Clint's laughter is boisterous and despite Peter's promise, he lets Cooper win at catch. That first night at the farmhouse, Gamora lets Nate sit in her lap and when her and Peter's eyes meet across the table during dinner, his heart doesn't hurt as much.

It's a start.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have strep and by the time i publish this, will have seen endgame three times in the past four days. Wonderful(TM).


End file.
